blue funk
by Avide
Summary: Dasey one-shots, all aiming for unhappy endings, and some routes I've never seen another Dasey author take. I add to it at random.
1. dolefulness

Staring at the ringing phone, Casey set he chin on folded hands, comfortable in her bed, certain of who the caller was, and utterly uninterested in picking up the receiver. She listened to music playing in the background of whatever movie was on the TV downstairs. The house was so quiet, besides this ringing phone, that Casey was able to listen to a muffled version of the film, using her own imagination for the visuals.

"Sara?" she heard Derek's voice say. "Hey, what's up?"

Casey wondered if he ever dropped the pretense, the pick-up lines, the smiles he used when lying to try to get a date with a girl. After all, she couldn't help but see those smiles as lies in themselves, and that irked her. Why did Derek feel the need to treat girls and dating like some kind of game? She knew what the goal was-how could she not? What Casey really wanted to know, was if Derek planned on continuing this game for years, or if he had ever thought about dropping it for a simpler [possibly more challenging, in his case] way of life? On and off, Casey pursued that particular alternative, which was to focus on everything but dating, and to see what qualities in a person seemed to matter to her the most. Derek's lifestyle seemed so…foolish and vapid to her; so short-term. Then again, guys Casey had dated looked at relationships in the short-term as well.

Hearing Derek on the phone with a lot of different girls (and so often) didn't upset Casey-it really didn't. It just didn't make her feel good, and in fact, she often had these moments of contemplation, where things in her room were so quiet, that occasionally, Lizzie would stop in the doorway to send her a curious look, probably wondering if Casey was crying. Derek would show up sometimes, too, on his way down the hall. He would make a snide remark or ask if she had carpal tunnel from too much studying, when really, she had been thinking and thinking and thinking instead. At this point, whenever Casey was quiet, no one else seemed to like it, but she felt lucky that there had yet to be an 'Are you sure you're okay' conversation.

Today, as Derek made his way onto the good side of this Sara girl with the bland act of small talk, Casey watched the light rain outside her window slither silently down the glass, like countless little worms scooting toward the sill. Casey wanted so badly to be in a relationship with someone who might like to have her snuggled against them during dismal-looking days like this one, quietly watching TV or sleeping or...one of her favorites, talking. She had yet to be with someone who really felt comfortable with her, and vice versa. Was Derek at all capable of relaxed, affectionate pockets of togetherness with a girl? Would he ever gently run his hands along a girl's bare back in the glow from the streetlight and fuzzy humidity in the air? Did he know how to make a girl feel important and sensual, not just pursued as a sexual conquest? Casey had no clue as to whether or not Derek looked at a girl's appealing features with any depth beyond "hot". The thought made her want to shove away any visual images that gave her, and just walk out on them. Sometimes, she literally acted on that, like yesterday, when she surprised Derek, Lizzie, and Edwin by leaving the couch in the middle of a zombie movie, retreating to her room only to lie in almost the exact same position she occupied now. Suddenly picturing Derek with empty hands, eyes that weren't smoldering, and slight remnants of a girl's sparkly lip balm on his normally bare mouth easily ruined Casey's ready speech about zombies not being "badass" and "necessary", as Edwin had described them.

"Yeah, yeah," Casey heard Derek saying into the phone, "I know what you mean. That's a good point, too, but hey…um…mind if I call you tomorrow?" Pause, then, "Yeah. Of course! How could I not?"

Casey swallowed and burrowed her face into her pillow, eyes closed, as she tried to listen only to the rain.

She tried to think of the cute boys in her grade whom she hadn't met. It was just…hard to dream up half-decent flirting scenarios right now. She was tired, and that kind of fun could wait…and wait…as long as she wanted it to.

"Okay. 'Bye." Derek said, and hung up the phone, leaving Casey to wonder what he'd do now, in the faux seclusion of his own bedroom, as she lay here with too many thoughts. Sometimes Casey felt like a pathetic voyeur for listening in on pieces of Derek's phone conversations, even if what she heard was only his half. She doubted that he, being as frustrating and arrogant and snarky as he was, ever had little dreams that played out like camera frames, as she often did nowadays. Bitterly, Casey was willing to bet that he didn't have those dreams and on-and-off ponder, for the rest of the day, what their relentless symbolic images could have meant. Just last night, she had thought of rust and leather and the image of her own hands digging through the soil of a lush green lawn, then burying a word beneath it. That word, as she rarely allowed herself to remember, was 'brother'.

The phone rang again, and was picked up quickly.

"Hello? Danielle, hey, I was just thinking of you."

As those words made their way through Casey's bedroom wall, she nuzzled her face deeper into the pillow, trying to shut off her own brain. All dreams of chocolate chips and floods and an open doorway to an empty room really needed to just _**go away.**_

She imagined Derek's chuckle staining her wallpaper…then decided a lobotomy was in order.

"Of course you're a good kisser," he was saying. "That talent can't go to waste."

_Yes,_ Casey thought, _definitely a lobotomy._


	2. downhearted

He heard Sam chuckling, but with this post-hockey game headache making his eyes tired and the buzzing lights overhead not helping, Derek couldn't bring himself to give a damn about, really, anything at the moment. He knew he was still in the locker room of the rink, but he didn't care. He also knew his family was waiting outside, but felt no need to rush.

"What happened to your ankle, dude?" Sam inquired, genuine concern showing for the third time since the game had ended.

In a blatant lie, Derek said, "It's supposed to be this way."

What was normally his ignored joint between leg and foot was this misshaped thing with swollen flesh around it, blossoming into three different powerful colors. Derek felt a little proud of his injury, no matter how bad it might be, just because he'd gotten it while doing one of the things he loved most in life---one of the things that fed the primal part of his core.

"It looks gross, but not too bad." Sam commented.

Cracking his knuckles, Derek replied, "It's sexy."

With that, he grabbed his cell phone, called his father, and tried to change into his sweatpants at the same time.

"Dad, hey; I am…" he held the phone away for a second, pulling a T-shirt over his head. "I'm moving slower tonight. See, my prowess on the ice got that guy Nichols jealous, and here I am with this multi-colored ankle, so---"

Sam smirked and rolled his eyes, balling his jersey into a corner of his duffle bag, getting ready to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, it doesn't hurt much, but---no. No, I didn't, but I have---oh, hi Nora, what did he say? He's coming in? But I don't need---okay, okay, I'll wait, but I'm not going to take forever in here. Yes, I'll wait for G---my dad. No, no, I remember. You said, and I quote, 'He deserves your utmost respect; he's your _**father**_. Call him that'. I got it."

The locker room door swung open, revealing a very curious-looking blond man.

"Derek?" he said loudly, before finding the second aisle of benches and spotting his son straddling the seat, squeezing about a third of his water bottle into his mouth. "Derek, what happened exactly?"

"Incident: Nichols wanted the puck, I passed it, and he didn't like that."

With that, Derek gestured to his ankle---his prized souvenir for tonight's hard work---a small smile on his face.

"It's pretty awesome, huh?"

His father rolled his eyes.

* * *

_You're getting caught up in the excitement...you've got to keep all your options open / Too much momentum  
_

* * *

A question, in a young, whining voice, roused Derek from sleep. He felt something scratching his clothes a bit, shifted his hand, and realized that he had fallen asleep in his beloved chair---a faded brown armchair that was well over a decade old. He stirred then, not 100% happy to be rejoining the waking world, but willingly doing so anyway.

"Juice boxes?" he heard a young girl's voice say. Marti, it was Marti talking---his youngest sibling.

"We have some juice boxes left," said Nora, Derek's stepmother, "They're in the fridge."

"I love you, Nora!"

Just as Nora was chuckling, footsteps hurried into the kitchen, then upstairs, and Derek allowed one eyelid to slowly open.

"Derek!" she said, spotting the change. "How're you holding up?"

He rolled his shoulders into the cushioning of the armchair.

"Could be much worse." He replied, his voice low and scratchy from sleep.

"George!" Nora called, her eyes bouncing from the front door to the staircase, then the basement door. "George, where are you?"

Then Derek's father came into view, cheeks red from a fresh scrubbing, his eyes tired.

"Do you need something?" he asked, making his way down the stairs.

"Um, yes, but before I ask, did you see Casey up there?"

"Yeah," George answered. "She's in her room, on the computer. Marti and her invisible friend are hunting for specific stuffed animals."

"Is one of them a little elephant with a bow tie?"

George shrugged, his eyes wide now, and it made his wife smile, just before she produced said elephant from behind her back.

"I found this between cereal boxes." She said.

Derek smiled despite himself.

"Daphne, no!" a little girl shouted upstairs. "You don't eat those! They are for _**monkeys**_."

Derek's smile grew. His younger sister Marti was one of his favorite people on the planet, and he knew that would never change. The petite brunette knew he was metaphorically at her feet every day, no matter what time it was. When she'd been a baby and their mom and dad were still married, Derek had quickly been made to learn how to help calm Marti's cries and squirms just from the way he held and played with her. He had assisted in just a few diaper-changing moments, none of which did his stepsister Casey know about.

Casey, a wide-eyed optimist who tried very hard to be a great babysitter, really seemed to buy what Derek was selling when it came to his experience with toddlers and babies. He wanted to make the act he put on as well-rounded as he could, making others believe he only knew or cared about hockey, flirting, and basic guitar skills. Casey brought on emotions that, like those familial ones he had for Marti, he did not question, although he knew that he didn't see Casey as family. It was just this gray area he didn't allow himself to dwell on…ever. The time he'd worry about their relationship would be if ever found himself dreaming, late at night, alone in his bed, about milk chocolate and oak book shelves stuffed with fiction, large eyes and a half-whispered question: "Are we going to make out now, or what?"

Then he would worry. Not yet.

* * *

_Too many angles / Too many factors to cover / Waiting for signal / You're searching for network_

* * *

"What did you do to your ankle?"

"Never seen a battle wound before, princess?"

"Go stuff it."

His closed lips began to tilt up at one end, forming a smirk that drove Casey into the kitchen to open cabinet doors, move things, making something to both satisfy hunger and escape from the strong possibility of a strung-out argument. Sometimes Casey liked to run from those, putting the tension on hold for a time, and maybe tonight's reason was Derek's very visible multicolored ankle.

"Don't you want to hear how I got it?"

"Leave me alone, Derek! Just watch TV like you did all this afternoon!"

"As much as I'd love to be in school, I---"

"Keep to yourself, Derek!"

"Why should I?" he instigated. "When I could be here, plotting and waiting for you!"

"You already do that, I'm sure, so you must be bored if you're still talking to me."

* * *

_Before you speak think about what you're trying to say / Who else is there to blame for miscommunication?_

* * *

He stared at his outstretched leg for a moment, then relaxed it on the ottoman close by, strategically pushed there by Marti, before she placed a large bowl of popcorn in his lap (essentially stolen from Nora) and after she coerced him to watch _Finding Nemo_ with her. His silence told the truth: he was entirely bored---desperately, in fact, because why else would he bother the nerdy stepsister his own age? An argument with Casey was almost always fun for him---a slightly twisted, very immature form of entertainment for his particular seventeen-year-old boy.

Feeling somewhat confident that Casey wouldn't add her statement to his silence and realize the answer, he then came up with, "Get over yourself, geek."

The sound of silverware being jostled seemed to echo toward him from the other room, followed by the opening and closing of a refrigerator door.

"I don't want that Super Klutz ego to do much more growing."

Derek heard nothing from the kitchen, and imagined Casey chewing on a sandwich, ignoring him, her big blue eyes growing softer with each bite that satiated her stomach. She could be planning what homework to do in what order, which scented pen to write with, and how long she'd spend on it. Derek could just picture the way her mind was sorting that out, and really, he _**was**_ picturing it, which was odd…since he normally didn't care what Casey was thinking. This was so…a darker shade of gray. It made him wonder what expired food he'd eaten earlier, or if his own jokes surrounding George's cooking were becoming reality, and he was going to die slowly from poisoning via chicken dinner. Maybe his heart would explode, or stomach deflate, or brain get sick losing so many troops to this gray sickness---this unsettling divide that drove Derek to daydream as much as he had at age 7, and to apply it to an obsessive, over-analytical dancer with perfect skin.

He hoped that Marti would never drive a guy to lose serious brain power just by standing on the same floor of the house, because _**holy crap**_, this was annoying. All this thinking just consumed him, and…he hated being in the gray area.

Just then, Casey walked by him with her trendy purse in one hand and a plate of sliced strawberries in the other. Just as she was ascending the staircase, she muttered, "I'm getting a lobotomy. It should help."

His lips parted and quirked, his eyebrows raised, and his brain went into overdrive.

"I'm sure it will, Space Case. It certainly couldn't make things worse---"

"Quit answering the phone when I'm trying to do my homework, by the way," she said as her feet continued up the stairs. "It's really distracting…all of the girls' insecurities and all of your lies…"

Derek sighed. He wanted to make a joke about his stepsister being jealous of all the calls from girls, but…the very thought suddenly made a sharp, unpleasant metallic taste erupt on his tongue. These damn gray cells of his. They'd multiply and he'd soon forget his name and address and how to hold a guitar---all thanks to two _**girls**_.

_Maybe,_ he thought dejectedly, _I deserve this. Maybe it's supposed to be this way_.


	3. bereaved

"Her eyes were amazing-I'll give her that-but she corrected me on so much of what I said, and-" Derek shook his head. "I have a keener globbing off of my life already, so having another rude girl around, interrupting me might just send me into a homicidal rampage."

Sam chuckled and downed some of his warm beer and said, "That's a funny thought, dude, because honestly, the only people you'd kill would be a few hockey referees, Truman French, that hot dog stand guy who purposely always screws up your order-"

"He's a dick; can't blame me."

"You tried to speak to him in Spanish, and ended up insulting him about his wife."

Derek made a sarcastic "big deal" gesture. "So I'm terrible at Spanish; I was trying to-"

"Maybe your philosophy professor, your high school biology teacher, whoever created _My Little Pony, _and possibly Casey, right? I mean, come on."

Derek shrugged. "Casey wouldn't be just up and murdered, man, because she deserves a long, creative, painful death, made slow by a very long rope, some strawberry syrup, maybe, and her R.A.-"

Sam pushed his lawn chair a little further away from his longtime friend.

"What're you talking about?" he asked carefully.

Derek laughed his way through: "You seem a little afraid."

"Maybe I am. Or maybe it's a very confused, worried curiosity. I never imagined I'd consider grad school, but I also never thought you'd have…whatever is between you and Casey."

"She is what she is, and she doesn't drive anyone to madness the way she does me. I take it as a secret plan to jack up my blood pressure to some unhealthy degree, and work on heart attack symptoms after that. See-"

"You've fantasized about really strange, creepy ways to kill your-" Sam swallowed, "to kill Casey?" Is that really the way to spend our first vacation free of our families?"

Derek set his now empty beer bottle on the grass. "I'm glad we decided to spend spring break here. We can get jet skis and drink a lot more beer and get some music playing and just-"

"Do you really obsess over Casey-related stuff so much that you-"

"Are you still stuck on that? Look, there are days when I think, 'I'd love to kill her', and then I think that her death would be a slow one involving torture, and afterward, I'd take my lovely assistant upstairs with me, but besides that…I wouldn't do what you think I'd do. I think."

Sam and Derek held gazes for the next few seconds, during which Derek wondered what Sam was getting at, and Sam debated about throwing Derek into the lake tomorrow before or after fishing.

"You just have weird body language around Casey at times." Sam said.

"You mean, you can see me restraining myself from strangling her?"

"I mean putting both arms around her just to give her the remote."

Derek glared, the wind picked up, and Sam took it as a sign. He swallowed again.

"I-I just have seen a few things that are odd for people who see themselves as brother and sister."

"You heard her call me her brother a couple of times after high school," Derek told him, his eyes darkening slightly. "You heard it with your own ears and I didn't correct her."

"Okay. I understand, dude."

Derek stared for a second, then nodded and folded his arms over his chest.

* * *

He was appalled by his sudden obsession with the conversation he'd had with Sam a few days earlier. He kept imagining Casey alone in her college dorm room with a few friends, with a bottle of wine on the table, her feet in those brightly colored socks that have individual toes, and a slight frown on her face. Surely, he assumed, she must miss (though not consciously) having an adversary like him around. Who, in her new university life, could possibly be filling the role of naysayer, jerk, opposition, prankster, good-looking serial dater of some of her pals?

Derek had promised himself that he would barely use his cell phone at all over the course of these five vacation days, and yet…here he was, thinking that one possible call to Marti might not be all he'd make. It made him feel pathetic. He shook his head and continued rinsing off his plate and reached for the dish soap. Glancing at the label, he half-chuckled, half-coughed in surprise. It was one of those eco-friendly brands, which only made him think of one person. This wasn't a safe memory trail. It led to the night that got him into this uncertain state, this desire to be miles away, relaxing, drinking beer.

* * *

**Two Weeks Earlier...**

_"Casey, why can't you reconsider?"_

_She sniffled and rubbed her face against his clothed shoulder, as if trying to burrow into the cashmere._

_"This is __**not**__ the big problem you think it is. You're overanalyzing. We're too __**young**__ for this."_

_"Derek, you and I feel so much for each other," she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "I don't want our relationship to get messy because we tried to ignore our some of our biggest differences. I'm trying to keep things simple."_

_Derek's face fell even further and he rubbed it thoroughly with his palm. His other hand trailed gently along her hip, back and forth, hoping that through the denim, she was still comforted._

_"Give us a chance." He said lowly._

_"Derek, please!" She sniffled again, and a fresh tear sped down her cheek. "I almost said something to you when we last spent time together…something really big…and I don't want to say it when we might get deeper into this and find ourselves talking about-" Casey wiped away another tear. "about becoming parents together. You know I'm not kidding, here."_

_She was officially crying again, and Derek was putting both arms around her shoulders, shifting to accommodate this desire to envelope her._

_"You know what my religious beliefs are, and-and Derek, you don't have any. I've never had a problem with that. We couldn't raise children together, though, if you continue to have these same views, and I'm starting to look for The One, the capital letters One, Derek. This is just the beginning, but…but I don't want to have a big, important gap between parents when their kids ask each of them-"_

_Derek squeezed her for a second. "How can you be so wrapped up in this now? Why is this so important at __**this**__ age, __**this**__ point in your life?"_

_"Derek, I thought you understood that I-"_

_"I'm sorry that I keep cutting you off, but I know what you're going to say. I know that makes me seem insensitive, but babe, you can't expect me to let you break up with me without a fight. I might not have these exact same beliefs and questions down the line."_

_The ends of her sleeves were wet._

_"We don't have any reason to believe," Derek told her, "That we're going to be together forever and get married. Not this soon."_

_Casey reached up behind her ear and toyed with the end of her headband._

_"Let's just have fun and see what happens. Okay?" he asked her, running his thumb over her cheekbone. "Please, Casey. I don't want this to be difficult, and…thinking this much about plans you have for your __**future**__ isn't…isn't exactly necessary. It isn't exactly healthy to obsess over it."_

_Feeling a little insulted, she blew her nose into a tissue and replied, "We're not getting any younger, Derek. My twenty-sixth birthday is in two weeks, and I don't want to wait ten years to be a mom for the first time. You seem serious about me on…some level and…" she sniffled again. "While I'm trying to recover, we might as well drop the conversation."_

_"So what are we?" he asked, gently turning her face toward him._

_"You mean…are we still together?"_

_Derek's shoulders lowered with his exhale. "Yes."_

_She bit her lip and felt something thicken in her throat. "No."_

* * *

Derek wasn't good at moping; he never had been.

"Want another beer?" Sam asked from across the room, his hand in the cooler.

"Yeah, thanks. Are we goin' fishing today?"

Sam's face brightened. "With how much you moped last night, I hoped you'd want to go today."

Derek frowned in response, blinking away images of a certain someone (the smell of mandarine-scented shampoo, a big, confident smile, nimble fingers).

"What?"

"That's low."

"You're welcome, dude. Let's have fun while we're here, not reminisce about crap we've been through, as if it's a negative life lesson worth mulling-"

"I get it, Sam. Don't worry."

Each of the two men shook their heads at the other.

"Are you feelin' all right now?"

Derek slammed his hand against a nearby table. "Leave it alone, Sam!"

(Casey saying "on some level"…"don't want to wait ten years"…"No".)

His friend froze for a second, a beer in each hand. "Um…I…I'm sorry, man. Genuinely sorry, and…I want to know what happened, but…Has somebody torn you up?"

Derek shrugged into a thin jacket. "Let's go fishing. I can't doubt myself. I'm Derek Venturi."

His words were empty, but soon enough, he felt that would change.

("Derek"…"we couldn't")

He left his cell phone on the table.

* * *

03.17.10, edited 12.13.12


	4. cheerless

He was wearing a tie and collared, button-up shirt with a tired facial expression. He was sipping from a bottle of beer and stealing small chocolate chips from the bag of baking morsels.

"He broke his leg in three places and had surgery on it that day. I went to see him, maybe, two days afterward, since hospitals suck," Derek explained, receiving a nod from Casey. "I was teasing him about when he'll come back to the team, saying that he won't be on the ice, but he could still wear his jersey. I say he'll make a great water boy, and he should hold our towels for us."

Casey wrinkled her nose and chuckled. Derek gave her a small smile, and she watched the way the expression warmed his features. Things were changing so much between them , and the uncertainty of how far that would go and how long it would take made her nervous.

Her shoulders dropped just as his gaze did.

She wondered how his breath had grown hot in such a short time as his mouth attached itself to her neck. He took hold of her breast, rubbing his thumb up and down on the side of it. Her hands had hung loose at her sides until a second ago, and she didn't know how to stand or whether or not she should. Would it be wrong to push Derek away just a little and sit down, trying to put an enticing look on her face, fully covered but lacking a bra, feeling vulnerable. Would he wake up then, and realize he didn't want this? His exhale was heavy and a clear signal of a certain level of arousal. His tongue traced her bottom lip, a gesture she wasn't sure she liked, but he made up for it when he initiated kissing for the next few minutes, his hands running over her back and sides.

"I don't understand you, but…keep touching me." She found herself whispering.

"I want you," he replied at a slightly louder volume, pulling back enough to make eye contact. "Sam and I planned all day on drinking like this-what we'd drink and what bars we'd hit to have them, and…I wanted this, too."

Casey's mouth fell open.

He smirked and slid his thumb along her hips, just inside the waistband of her skirt.

"I'm not kidding." He said.

His breath was heavy with Jagermeister and Casey began to unbutton his shirt, while still uncertain, nervous, and insecure.

"Keep it up," he murmured. "I'll take care of you."

"Just tonight." She added, her eyes flitting between each of his.

He swallowed and looked down, focusing on her body. There was no answer to her silent question. Not until daylight, anyway.

* * *

05.25.10


	5. sorrowful

Sitting on a ratty old couch in a rented winter cabin, dressed in a thermal shirt and a magenta hoodie and denim, straining to hear a Drive-By Truckers song on the radio one room over, Casey focused her gaze out the window, contemplating. Derek was inches away, watching snow fall, his arms folded, hair a mess in the back. Casey realized, just then, that she couldn't sever her connection to Derek in memories...not after had recovered her breathing and her legs no longer shook, but a certain part of her anatomy was now forever altered. She struggled with the usefulness of imagining what her experience just now could or should have been like, because it was officially over.

She took a very deep breath. Derek turned to her and slid his hand around her opposite side, moving both their torsos closer together, then their faces.

"I know how you feel." He muttered, then kissed her languidly, just as he had twenty minutes ago.

She sighed in relief when he paused. He was still a bit nervous. She checked the clock, knowing the rest of the family would be back soon.

Instead of going skiing for the third day in a row, she had opted to stay here and rid herself of a piece of her pride. How her stepbrother managed to the same, she couldn't guess. He couldn't have known that she had a plan he'd want to be around for.

Now she looked at Derek's young brown eyes, their exact shade, and the way the color yielded to his black pupils; his eyes were undoubtedly recognizing conflict in her expression, though he surely had no clue what kind.

She felt a bit hollow, very stupid. Ashamed, she bit her lip and played with the end of her shirt sleeve. Derek's hand slid onto her ankle, right against her skin, and his thumb rubbed across the joint. She sniffled.

His face was now full of confusion and a level of alarm that she didn't bother to decipher. "Casey." He shifted his shoulders very slightly. "You okay?"

_Please don't make me say it_, she thought, swallowing thickly. _Mistake._


	6. confounded

"Why do you have to be like that?" Casey asked in a quiet voice.

"You should know, by now, that it's because of that tough-guy thing, where the nerdy, good-hearted girl has worn on him, but he'll never admit it. There are some moments I can't let you just suffer through, with my veiled conscience and all."

"I know, but…I just had to hear you say it."

Derek sighed. "You're only asking because the author thought she'd pull a Disney-style move by wrapping everything up with a happy family and a moral lesson in time for the story's end."

"The author…? You mean that we don't have a team of TV writers this time, but one person?"

"Yes," Derek replied, chuckling at his stepsister's naivety. "Someone female and young, that's all I know."

Casey rolled her eyes. "She's just your type, then."

"Ooh," he said, turning in his perfectly character-fitting armchair that he insisted no one else could sit in. "Did I just hear an unsurprising catty move from one Casey McDonald?"

"Maybe you did! It is unsurprising, isn't it, considering how I'm supposed to be…what…eighteen… seventeen, maybe? The actress playing me was twenty-three years-old around the time of the last episode-"

"'Futuritis'."

"Yes, I know, Derek. I'm the one who stays on top of the scripts and relays information to you."

"Trying to downplay my genius again, I see."

"Can it, Derek. I'm just tired of being in high school, with cameras following me around."

"Yeah, the cameras can get in the way when you're trying to make out with a girl, especially when the girl's all self-conscious or camera-shy."

Casey rolled her eyes again.

"Is this the part where I start watching a hockey game and you annoy the crap out of me throughout?" Derek inquired, playing with the TV remote.

His stepsister shrugged.

"As we're bickering, are we going to have this stand-off, where we get closer and closer to each other?" he asked. "Because I haven't had my rabies shot yet, and besides. If the writer of this story wants to make it some TV special or something, I'll need to change my shirt…put on something more…_**masculine**_."

"Relax," Casey said. "I doubt she'll take it _**that**_ far. After all, I'm sure some people are sick of what a jerk you are."

"No way, are you kidding? I'm good-looking, and fans know it."

"Well, I'm sure the fact that the actress who plays me is really pretty helped her get hired."

Derek nodded appreciatively, but said nothing.

"I could see the author wishing for a TV special about us, though; maybe one where you kiss me on a dare or something, or…I don't know…almost kiss me? See, it's clear in the body language on the show, that the actors playing us get along really well, whatever their off-camera relationship extends to, because when they're playing us, and…and we're about to be given a talking-to by George and Nora, we just…stand kind of close and your hands will go into your pockets, making your arm-Derek, are you listening to me?"

With his gaze across the room, either on a wall or out a window, he replied, "Nope."

That's when Casey broke out her pouty, I'm-exasperated face, knowing that's what the author wanted.

"Why throw around ideas about a TV special," her stepbrother said smugly, "When there's _**so**_ going to be movie about us. You know, one last stand, which disproves your 'people are sick of Derek' theory."

Casey bolted to the edge of the couch, eyes wide. "There's going to be a movie, really? Oh my gosh!"

"Don't say 'gosh'; it bugs me, and it kind of bothers the author, too."

Casey rolled her eyes at Derek, who gave her a small, mock smile. "Liar; don't give me any of that 'only pansies say gosh' talk."

He shrugged, still showing off that plastered-on smile. "Okay, I won't, but I'll strongly imply it."

"When are we going to kiss?" Casey inquired, sitting on her hands in carefully edited impatience.

"Calm down, Case. We have to build up some tension first, which is going to be a little weird, considering…"

"Considering what?"

Derek's hand gesture seemed to say 'it's obvious'. "I mean the way we treated each other over the course of my show."

"It was our family's show, Derek! Just because it had your name in it, you have to go and be a jerk."

"Relax, loser. Your time for TV fame will come…when you're video-taped breaking some coveted artifact or-"

"Did you just say 'coveted'?" Casey replied, facing him more. "Have you stolen my dictionary and learned a new word?"

Derek groaned and tipped his head back against the chair, purposely missing Casey's gloating moment.

D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x D C x

* * *

Nora set down her gloves and scarf on one of the empty stools at the kitchen counter, eyeing the room's activity level at the same time. Marti was seated at the other end of the counter, ignoring her small plate of carrot sticks and grapes in favor of Derek's impression of a manatee. Casey was washing her hands while trying to convince her sister Lizzie that six cookies were a better idea than twelve this soon before dinner. Edwin sauntered in just then, his eyes on the cupboard Lizzie was protecting. The whole family knew where the cookies were. Upon noticing his stepmother, Edwin headed over to her.

"Nora!" he said.

She smirked. "What do you want?" was her joking response.

"Before you think the worst, I want you to know that no neighborhood dogs were harmed in the-"

"Ed!" Derek snapped, his full attention on the younger brother, eyes sharp.

Edwin continued, but with some slight nervousness. "I mean, I didn't know it was possible for little Smokey to get up that high from the rebound affect of-"

"Ed, stop talking before I make your face cave in."

Nora's eyebrows shot up, her mouth fighting a smile. "Edwin, what's this about?" she inquired. "Did this happen today? Derek, quit threatening your brother and please get Marti to eat her carrots."

"I…It's not about…I didn't…" Edwin stuttered. "I didn't know he could be allergic to anything!"

"Who, the dog?"

"Smokey."

"Who?"

"No, Smokey."

Nora shook her head. "Whose dog is Smokey?"

Derek mussed Marti's hair and took her bare plate, narrowing his eyes at Edwin all the while.

"What's he talking about?" Casey asked quietly as she watched Derek rinse off the plate.

"Nothing, keener, it's nothing."

"Well, I can tell it isn't nothing, Derek."

He sighed noisily. "Case, you know that there isn't a street or a yard or a car on the other side of this house's front door. Not even a driveway."

She rolled her eyes.

"Smerek!" shouted Marti, waving at him with both arms in an almost violent manner.

"What's up, punk?" he asked.

"Come over here! I'm going to tell you a secret!"

"Well, please lower your voice, babe." Nora said, before gently guiding Edwin into the other room.

"Derek," Casey continued. "I know that this is a set, not a real house, but seriously-"

"Seriously, we can't have this conversation. It would mean some kind of friendship between us, or…well…any kind of getting along that Edwin or Liz might witness or hear about from Marti, and I am not about to ruin our reputation. Why would you want to disrupt the balance, hmm?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Happiness, nonchalance…" he replied, as if simply naming options for Casey to choose from. "Perhaps a desire to have dinner before our next loud argument that would undoubtedly land us both on second-floor-only restriction for the rest of the night."

"Oh come on, Derek!" his stepsister replied sarcastically. "You want to deny us a genuine, feel-good fam-"

"No. Since when have I done anything to make you happy?"

Casey tilted her head. "When, you ask? When you quit that restaurant job for-"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Enough!"

"Then the time you ruined my necessary cell phone, then handed me a new one!"

Casey smiled, watching Derek squirm a bit in discomfort.

"That never happened."

"I totally understand, Derek!" she replied in an exaggeratedly kind tone, making him suspicious.

His glare made her smile. "That never happened," He repeated in a lower tone, before striding from the room. "If you tell anyone right now, it'll ruin what we have going. You don't know how much it would change."

She followed him. "But-"

"Save it, Casey. Just go complain to Emily about me, and leave this alone. Don't go thinking that suddenly, I'm gonna be nice to you all the time."

"I'm not assuming anything, Derek." she shot back, her confusion obvious.

"We need more time to change whatever you and I have. Things won't stay this exact same way forever, sure, but some things about us will never go away or loosen up," he pointedly tilted his head at her. "You're trying to get me to tattle on my dufus brother, but I'm not going to play your buddy for even a second right now."

Casey's lip twitched. "I am not going to cry."

"In three minutes, you are."

"Shut your mouth, Derek. Why are you behaving this way? This is all about the franchise and the contracts and...just...**_money_**, isn't it? That's why you won't have us getting along very well?"

"The guy playing me is going to take a good while to get back on his acting feet, and why shouldn't he go out on a good note? By that, I mean pretending to see Casey as his sister and not anything more. Got it? I have to stick to the script."

Casey's lip was full-on trembling now. "That is so **_cold_** and unfair to **_both_** of us. I...I won't forgive this for a very long time. If you keep shutting me out, our relationship will never improve."

Derek was stoic.

"I never took you for the all-business type."

With that, she headed for her room, trying not to cry.

* * *

05.30.10


End file.
